Parch

She waits at home.
The ground has dried.
The parch, to days on end.
Waiting just to see,
The silhouette of him.
She knows the trail was long.
The cattle took his dance.
Now, she stares the distance,
Caught within its trance.
Her ground is hard.
She struggles.
The crops have died, no hope.
In her dreams she sees him,
The shadow of his cloak.
Her heart is worn from crying,
Missing his embrace.
In the middle of the night,
She feels him,
Touch, a trace.
Funny, how the heat,
No rain could dry a soul.
It takes what once filled deeply.
And leaves a dusty hole.
Just a kiss she longs for,
To rain and drench this parch.
To fill their river, flow it,
Run through and soak their heart.
The rains are finally filling.
The drought has ended, flood.
Sink holes fill, o're flowing.
Looks like the rain was blood.
Just to have him home,
Dry him in her fire.
Soon, the crying will subside,
Their river of desire.


Raine Les 6/21/2008

Nice!

Nice flip of that coin!

Thank you, kindly